


Sweetie’s New Hobby

by KateKintail



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement, Goose-typical violence, M/M, Strokes Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 00:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16923483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: An AU of my own series, Strokes, for the scene where Sweetie meets Jamie for the first time during hockey tryouts.





	Sweetie’s New Hobby

**Author's Note:**

> Find more stories in this series: <https://strokesfiction.ink/>
> 
> This is a soulmate AU where one person finds a goose who leads them to the other person. The difficulty comes in not being mauled by a goose

You're spending too much time around the club, Nik had said. To which I had replied that it was my club, too, and I could spend as much time there as I wanted to. Yes, but your input on the brand of drink napkins is not welcome, Nik had said. To which I had replied that I guess he had a point that it was a little beyond my job responsibilities. Get a new hobby, Nik had said. To which I had replied that I already had a hobby. You're spending too much time in the house and your obsession with LEGOs is sad considering you're a grown man, Nik had said. To which I had replied that the plural is actually LEGO, not LEGOs. 

At that point, Nik had just stared at me. Unblinkingly. Until I blurted out, “I'll go find something else to do.” Nik had smiled, patted me on the arm, kissed my cheek, and ended the conversation right then and there. 

I tried to help out at the free clinic, but it wasn't long before Olly asked me kindly to go help someone else. Pit didn't need any help from me at his motorcycle shop, even though I offered to help him with boring paperwork. So I ended up taking over the grocery shopping for Auntie Al. Keeping the house fully stocked was definitely a full time job, and I was glad to be able to help out. 

“Where did you put the laundry detergent? Did you bring it in or leave it in the car?” The more than fifty grocery bags were spread across the kitchen counters and island, and the two of us were busy unpacking. 

I smacked my forehead with the butt of my palm. “Oh, I completely forgot to buy laundry detergent. Sorry! I'll get it next time.” 

Auntie Al looked annoyed for a moment then nodded. “I should have just enough to get through this week's loads.” He didn't say anything more about it, but he put the jug of milk in the fridge a little more roughly than he perhaps needed to. 

We continued unpacking, making our way through what felt like a hundred small, plastic bags. There were cloth tote bags, and I really should have used them, but I'd forgotten them in the car when I went into the store. No big deal, though. I'd remember them next time I went to the store. 

“These are the wrong kind of eggs. We buy cage free brown ones now,” Auntie Al said, turning a container in his hand, sighing, and putting it into the fridge anyway. 

“These ones were on sale though.”

“Since when have we been concerned about that sort of thing in our house?” Auntie Al did have a point. Money was pretty much the only thing we didn't have to worry about.

“And what's this?” Auntie Al turned a small jar around in his hand. 

I glanced over. “Oh, that looked good. I thought I'd throw in some new spices so you could spice things up in the kitchen.”

Frowning, Auntie Al walked it over to the spice rack. There wasn't an empty space for it, so he set it just next to the rack. “Guess you had some fun shopping. See anything else new that wasn't on the list that you want to tell me about before I stumble upon it?” 

“Actually I checked out the community bulletin board today when I was at the store,” I told him. “Something did catch my eye.” The look of hope in Auntie Al's eyes was unmistakable. “You don't want me doing the house's grocery shopping again, do you, Auntie?” 

He smiled at me. “I really don't. No offense, Sweetie.” 

All right, technically I was a little hurt, but I understood. This was his world, just like the garage was Pit's, the clinic was Olly's, and the club floor was Nik's. I needed to find my own world, my own something. Maybe this would be it.

*

And, then again, maybe it wouldn't. On paper it had seemed like such a perfect fit for me: become a coach of one of the teams in the brand new Gay Youth Hockey League. I'd get to help out a community organization just starting up, I'd get to guide a bunch of gay teens, and I'd get to share my passion for hockey.

The problem was, I was way out of my league here. I thought these kids would be just learning hockey. I could teach them basic passing and shooting drills. I could guide them to some wins and help them deal with their losses. I could be a role model and could share what I knew. But when I got to the ice rink, I found about a hundred teenagers on the ice, going through rigorous tryouts. There was a goalie blocking every shot he faced. There were defense players skating backwards with ease. There were players zooming around small orange cones, handling pucks with far more skill than I had. I mean, maybe these kids could teach me something, but not the other way around. 

The other issue was the guy in charge of the whole league. He wasn't a father of one of the players. He wasn't even a teacher wanting to expand the choice of sports for his students. The guy in charge—the guy who'd had the idea to start this league in the first place—was James Deacon. Yes, the James Deacon. James Deacon the star goalie of the Timber Wolves of the East Coast Hockey League. James Deacon, an out and proud professional gay hockey player. James Deacon, one of the most handsome men I'd ever seen. And here he was, in person, about to decide if I was right for this job. 

I didn't need this kind of pressure. I'd had this kind of pressure before, and I wasn't interested in facing it again. 

I should have gone straight over to Mr. Deacon and tell him I wasn't interested anymore. I should have headed for the exit and not looked back. I should have found a different hobby. But I didn't. Because of the goose. 

Just like everyone else in the world, I'd seen soulmate geese before. I'd just never seen one appear out of nowhere. One second, James Deacon was standing in center ice, telling the boys to start speed drills and making notes on the paper attached to his clipboard. The next second, there was a giant Canada goose on the ice. Its little webbed feet slipped, sending its feathered body sliding into the boards, which seemed to piss it off. The goalie didn't look pleased or surprised. Instead, he looked at it in horror. 

As the goose seemed to recover its senses, James started telling the boys to head back to the benches. His first thought wasn't for his own soulmate but for the safety of the young players. I had to admire him for that. But I was also curious. What kind of guy didn't get excited about the prospect of finding his soulmate? Was he worried it might turn out to be one of the kids? That would be terrible. Was he thinking it might be one of the prospective coaches? That would... well, that would include me, technically. But what would be the chance that a handsome, talented, prefect guy like that might be meant for me? No chance. 

The goose tried to stand on the ice, losing its footing, finding it, and losing it again. It would have been comical if I didn't know that all this was going to frustrate it. Angry geese were pretty terrible. But angry soulmate geese were so much worse. It lifted its head, pointing it up at the lights above the practice arena and honked several times. James skated backward, out of its way, as if sensing that it was about to charge him. It seemed to fix its gaze on him in a way that left absolutely no doubt to whom this soulmate goose belonged. With its webbed feet fixed on the ice, it leaned forward and ran at him. The hockey pro easily skated out of its way, but the goose kept going. It spread its wings and took off, getting airborne, and then heading for the far side of the ice.

Once in flight, it was sort of graceful, but its wings made it seem at least twice as big and twice as terrifying. It swiped at the championship banners hanging on the far wall, making them flutter, and flew higher than the Plexiglas surrounding the rink. It circled the arena, and then it began to dive downward. 

It took me a few seconds to realize that it was headed straight for my area. “Move!” I yelled, not wanting to see casualties today. But I couldn't take my own advice. There were people on either side of me in the bleachers, waiting to shuffle along to the stairs. And the goose was definitely coming. So I did the only thing I could do: I threw my hands up over my head, covered my face with my arms, and crouched down into a ball. 

I heard yells and screams as the goose swooped over us. I tensed up and tried to remain as still as possible. If I didn't make myself a target, it might not notice me. And if it didn't notice me, it couldn't attack me. 

The poke poke poke in my shoulder made me narrow my eyes in confusion. Maybe someone was trying to tell me it was safe and I could get up? I lifted my head to find the goose standing on the bleachers right beside me. It honked loudly and then poked me with its beak. Poke poke poke. 

“What? Am I in your way?” 

Poke poke poke poke poke poke.

“Cut it out!” I pulled back, laughing. It didn't hurt exactly. If anything, through my sweater and coat, it almost tickled. Almost. 

It took a few steps forward and then started poking my arm again, jabbing insistently. 

“Hey, stop!” I put my hand over the area to block the beak, which was a mistake because it just jabbed the back of my hand instead. “Ow! What are you doing? What are you trying to... oh shit.” I covered my mouth with my hand. Perhaps swearing on what amounted to a job interview that involved children wasn't exactly the best idea. I stared at the goose and it stared back at me. “Are you... are you here for me?” 

It jabbed again as if to say 'that's what I've been to tell you, you idiot.'

“You're here for me?” 

It jabbed again, harder this time, as if to say 'I'm a goose. I can't answer you, you idiot. Just go over to that guy and kiss him so I can move on.'

So I got up. I felt the goose poke me in the back of my legs as I made my way down the stairs toward the ice. James was skating over to the side by this time, to meet me. And everyone else—the kids, the coaches, the parents, the arena staff—was watching us. It wasn't every day you see a soulmate goose make a match. 

This was unreal and unexpected. When I'd woken up in the morning, my only goal was to get myself a hobby. And now I was about to meet my soulmate. I supposed that was sort of a hobby of a certain sort. But I was a basket of nerves about what this meant. I wished Nik were here to calm me down. 

I stuffed my shaking hands into my pockets and then pulled them out again to run them self-consciously through my long, dark hair. Did I look like okay? I was meeting my potential soulmate. I wish I had taken more care with my appearance that morning. What if he didn't find me attractive? What if he didn't like me at all? 

Through the arena speaker system, the Waltz of the Snowflakes from the Nutcracker began playing. James looked around, trying to identify who had set that up, then sighed and shook his head. He gave me a soft smile as I approached. “Hi,” he said, stepping into the tunnel that led to the locker rooms. The thick rubber floor that would support skate blades made me feel like bouncing. And the music made me feel like dancing. 

I met him there, stopping right in front of him. I'm a tall guy, but so was he, and his skates gave him a few extra inches. “Hi,” I replied. “I'm Sweetie. I mean, I'm Dominik, but everyone just calls me Sweetie. And you're James.”

“Jamie,” he said. “The only people who call me James are sports writers and game announcers.” 

“Jamie,” I repeated, trying it out.

“Uhm...” He looked around, a little startled to find everyone watching us. His voice dropped down to a whisper. “Sorry to be blunt about this, but are you gay?”

This was not at all what I'd been expecting. “Yeah. Definitely. Out and proud.”

“That's a relief. 'Cause this is a little public. If you weren't...” 

I smiled at him. “I co-own a gay nightclub. Trust me. You can't get more out than I am. Though, kissing a famous gay man in the middle of an ice rink would probably do it.” 

“I'm not really famous,” said the famous hockey player, blushing a bit. It looked good on him. 

Between us now, the goose honked loudly. It snapped at us both, which was not the best way to bring us together, honestly, except to unite us against a common enemy. “I think it wants us to...” I trailed off, thinking about how wonderful it would be to kiss this man. 

The light, fluttery tone of the music changed to something deeper. Ominous bassoons echoed throughout the arena and set us both on edge just a little. 

He shifted his weight from one skate to the other. “I know we need to kiss. But before... before we kiss, I have to know something. I'll kiss you no matter what you say, I just need to know something.” He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and started chewing it in a way that made me want even more to kiss him. 

“Okay,” I whispered. There was no way he could know about the things in my past I didn't want to talk about, couldn't talk about. But I also knew I couldn't lie to this man. Not right now. Maybe not ever. Whatever he asked, I would tell him. 

He took a deep breath. “Are you an emotionally and physically abusive jerk?” 

“No!” I was shocked by the question and couldn't have answered faster.

He studied my face for some sign I was lying. 

“What kind of guys have you dated that that's what you have to ask me?” 

“Obviously, the wrong kind.”

“That's for damn sure!” I laughed, though I knew this wasn't a laughing matter. My emotions were all bubbling up to the surface. I've always worn them right on my sleeve. “Look, for what it's worth, a maniacal, manipulative bastard would lie to your face when asked a question like that. But I hope you'll believe me when I say I'm not like that.” 

He looked like he wasn't sure. He kept chewing at his lower lip. 

“My friend named gave me that nickname, Sweetie, because it's what I am. If you accept me as your soulmate, I will love you and cherish you and promise to never take you for granted. I will be patient with you and listen to you and always, always consider your feelings before my own. That's just the kind of guy I am.”

He looked down at his skates and my shoes, at the floor, at the goose. “I don't know what I can promise you that even comes close to that.” 

“Can I put my hand on your side?” 

He flushed red again. “Yes. Thanks.” 

I rested my hand at his waist. I curved my fingers, stroking softly, soothingly. I tried to relax him, but I knew there wasn't much apart from making this official that would calm either of us. “You don't have to promise anything. You just have to be you. We're soulmates. We're meant to be together. Right?” 

He gave me a nod and whispered back, “Right.”

And then he bent down and kissed me. Quickly, I closed my eyes and tried to burn this moment into my brain: the first time I'd ever kissed my soulmate. 

It didn't feel exactly the way I thought it would. I'd kissed a lot of men over the years, and I always imagined kissing my soulmate would be on an entirely different level. There would be fireworks exploding around us, having angels singing or bands playing or crowds cheering. It would be a kiss times a million, blowing every other kiss before it out of the water. 

But that wasn't how it was at all. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. The arena seemed to go silent; though I knew there were still people there and music was still playing, I suddenly couldn't hear anything but a rush of white noise in my ears. All I could feel were his lips against mine in the sweetest kiss I'd ever experienced. It was somehow both tentative and bold. It was brand new and deeply loving at the same time. It filled me up, satisfied me but also left me wanting more. It wasn't what I thought it would be. It was so much better. 

And when it was over, and he was pulling back, I fell against him, wanting to keep in contact with him, never wanting to let him go. “So...” I whispered. “Does this mean I get the job as one of the GYHL coaches?”

He laughed and put his arms around me. “I've got to see you out there on the ice first. What if you can't even skate?” 

I rubbed my hand up and down his chest while resting my cheek against his collarbone. “I wouldn't be much of a soulmate of yours if I couldn't skate. Let me grab my skates and we can continue this discussion on the ice.”

“And by discussion, do you happen to mean kiss?”

“That's exactly what I mean.” He knew me so well already. And we had the rest of our lives to share even more.

**Author's Note:**

> Written during NaNoWriMo 2018.


End file.
